The Hunt
by Jynxiii
Summary: The first chapter of Huntress from Morgead's perspective. May continue if enough people like it :D


**I don't own Night World. I've kind of wanted to rewrite the first chapter of Morgead's View On Huntress for a while, and listening to Imagine Dragons whilst looking at Avatar: the Last Airbender fanart gave me some inspiration. So here it is. I'll just go compare this to the crapness which is the original, haha.**

**The Hunt**

This was overly complicated.

I knew it, Jez knew it, heck, even Val knew it, and he hardly had any idea what was going on in front of him at the best of times; let alone when he was distracted by the humans in front of us… that river of life running through their veins and arteries, potent and powerful.

I shook my head and pressed my tongue against a sharpening canine. If I was to reclaim leadership from Jez then I would have to remain in perfect control.

Speaking of…

"It's simple."

I rolled my eyes. Anything but.

"You run. We chase. If we catch you, you die. We'll give you three minutes head start."

If that was simple, I didn't want to think what my own direct, get-in-get-out system was. I was tempted to snap a biting, sarcastic remark to her back but it was unlikely that she would let it slide. And I hated the looks that Raven gave me whenever I struck up an argument with Jez.

Which was really unfair. Jez started the arguments way more often than I did.

"Pick a weapon," she added. I crossed my arms and looked away from her bright red hair (though it never went far, the image of her in my mind, no matter how much I tried to force it away).

"Hey, take more than one." She nudged the pile of random assortments of weaponry with her foot. "Take as many as you want. My treat."

Thistle giggled next to me and Jez silenced her with a sharp gesture.

It was ridiculous, this obsession she had with danger. She had told us before the hunt that she wanted us to be shot at. _"Can you imagine how scared they'll be? We'll dodge everything, and they'll be left wondering what we are and what horrors they'll be put through before they finally die."_ She'd laughed, beautiful as always, and as always I'd had to force myself to look away. Maybe we were, on some level, _more_ than friends, but she wouldn't have taken so kindly to me openly staring at her.

I was forced back to the present when the skinhead leader of the other gang dove for the pile of weapons. I could almost feel Jez's smugness when he came up with the gun. Exactly as she'd planned. Of course. Sometimes I felt like the universe did this on purpose.

When had she even found the time to collect all these illegal guns, anyway? I only recognised one in the pile.

He pointed it straight at Jez (and even though it was stupid – even though the best of lucky shots wouldn't hurt her seriously – I could feel the protectiveness surge up inside me, the feeling that pressed me to step in front of her or to drag her away somewhere safe) and Jez laughed, hands placed carelessly on her hips.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the skinhead. Jez – being Jez – would be expecting everyone to be staring at her, but guns could still be painful even if they weren't dangerous.

"Chase this," the skinhead said. He shot at Jez and she moved at the last possible moment. There was a small firework of blood (which struck up the protective side in me again – _stupid, stupid_) but she didn't even cry out, or make any noise.

Well, until she happened to look down at her sleeve and saw the bloody hole in it. She hissed before advancing on the skinhead. "Do you know how much leather costs? Do you know how much a North Beach jacket costs?"

Seriously, I was going to start charging her for how many times she made me roll my eyes.

For one, the jacket was stolen. Secondly, I'd stolen it for her.

I still blame the universe. I would never have felt this stressed if we had never met.

Rather predictably, the skinhead continued shooting wildly. I dodged effortlessly, half-noticing Jez making her way closer and closer to the skinhead. The terror on his face would have made me laugh, had I not been so annoyed with Jez, when she lifted him by his jacket, one-handed. "You'd better run, boy," I heard her say, before she threw him an impressive distance through the air. Show-off.

He scrambled to his feet, gaping at both groups.

And then he ran. Just as Jez had planned.

I really hated her sometimes.

The others dived for the pile, all coming up with various guns and shot at us wildly. I dodged automatically, getting quickly bored. If it had been _me_ at the front, as it _should_ have been, we would have been chasing the skinheads at least five minutes ago. I promised myself that I would challenge Jez for leadership within the next couple of weeks (because, dammit, I was older. And the gang had been _my_ idea before she had hijacked it), or maybe I would just leave.

My mind flinched away from that idea immediately. As much as I hated to admit it, I counted on Jez too much.

(Or cared too much, but… no. There was no way could acknowledge that without being torn apart.)

To distract myself I reached out with my mind. I found Jez's too easily (like two puzzle pieces effortlessly fitting together or like raindrops merging, natural and right and–). Her aura was filled with the excitement of the hunt and the anticipation and very definitely not thinking about me.

'_Can we go after him now? Or do you want to show off some more?'_

I could feel her rile up and she pushed me forcibly from her mind and shot a glance over her shoulder, her lips pulling back from her teeth slightly.

"I told them three minutes. You want me to break my word?"

I wasn't sure whether to be offended that she pushed me from her mind or flattered that she actually thought I was worth the added complication of actually talking.

But at the point that she was glaring at me like a petulant child, she'd forgotten to keep track of the bullets. I could see one slice through the air, pointed at Jez's back. It was like a reflex to jump at her and push her to the floor (though I couldn't help noticing how close she was to me, the warmth coming from her skin and how I would only need to duck my head a couple of centimetres to…), obviously it wouldn't be fun to walk back with her bitching about one hole in her jacket, let alone two.

Nothing was worth that, let me tell you.

The bullet which would have punched another hole in Jez's jacket (and Jez, actually) sprayed bark over me, which brought me back to the actual reason that I was lying on her (the warmth and that ever-present temptation to kiss her to just see how she would react shoved aside).

"But… they're… not… running." Exaggerated patience. She hated it when I patronised her, but if I wasn't angry then I wouldn't be distracted enough, and I didn't think anything would be worth the various bruises and broken bones that she would give me if I kissed her now. "In case you hadn't noticed," I added scathingly.

Her eyes widened and she kicked me off, pushing herself back a couple of metres. "This is _my_ game. _I_ thought of it. We play it my way!" she yelled.

And, annoyingly, I was actually more tempted to kiss her now. She was always most beautiful when she was angry and dangerous, and she was inexplicably furious right now.

I started to ask her what was wrong with her, but she turned her back on me and shouted, "OK, now! But the leader's mine."

Oh, yeah. The hunt.

I picked mine quickly and followed him. Any confusing feelings I had for Jez melted away, because _this_ was what I was made for. The hunt.


End file.
